A Friends Betrayal
by Keelar
Summary: Escaping Antiva Lyra sets out to get her revenge on the elf that destroyed her clan and stole her freedom. Fem!OC/Alistair. Slight One-sided Zev/OC During the Blight


_**Betrayal**_

_**Chapter 1: Escape**_

Her heart hammered in her chest as she raced her horse towards the borders of Ferelden's Frostback Mountains. Her thighs ached from the constant riding, she was weary with lack of sleep and yet she still pushed onwards. Wind stung at her bare arms and sent her tresses of long silver hair flying into her face.

Lyra gripped the reins tightly as she rode onwards, feeling the tendrils of dread that had griped her since she'd made her escape loosen as she crossed the final boundary between Orlais and Ferelden. She was safe. For now at least. She'd reached Ferelden in a mere three days, surely this was a new record? Fear of capture had hastened her travels away from Antiva, through Orlais and finally back to her homeland.

And now to hunt down that treacherous elf, she'd heard whisperings of his activity during her time with the Crows, rumours that he was travelling with the mighty Grey Warden's. Although she had no proof this was true it sounded like something he'd do, worm himself in with stronger and more powerful people, people that could protect him regardless of his heinous crimes.

She would not be letting him off so easily, Grey Warden's or not.

The winds were picking up and the sky was fading from the blood red of sunset to steely blue of night. She knew she had to find shelter soon, her blood stained robes would not protect her from the harsh weathers and her pathetic dagger was no match against bandits. It had been a long time since she'd travelled in these parts, although she was sure if she didn't stop to rest she'd reach Redcliffe before morning.

She faced a tough choice: keep riding and risk an encounter with an enemy she couldn't face in her current condition, or stop and rest but potentially freeze to death as the night got colder and not reach Redcliffe until late the next day. She had grown accustomed to the heat in Antiva and she wasn't sure if she could handle the cold as well as she used too. Yet each minute spent resting meant the greater the distance between her and her revenge.

Her horse made the decision for her, catching it's hoof on the rocky path it tripped sending Lyra tumbling off. Dragging herself up and adding mud as well as blood to her collection of stains, she grasped the reins of her now limping horse. She'd **have **to rest now.

Walking slowly along the path, the jagged mountains looming high above her, she looked desperately for shelter. Large snowflakes began drifting down, causing Lyra's pale arms to turn a shade of blue and her barely repressed shivers to intensify. In a matter of minutes the once clear path was ankle deep in snow, hindering Lyra's progress further. She cursed her bad luck but ploughed onwards nonetheless.

Just as she was beginning to loose hope she saw a small dent in the side of the mountain. A cave! Shelter from the snow and wind and somewhere to rest her injured horse. It was a slow climb up towards the cave and she frequently tripped on hidden rocks, further ruining her robe and grazing her hands.

Reaching the cave, body numb with cold and clothes wet and cold, but she couldn't help but feel elated. Her horse settled down on the ground and she joined it, keeping close for warmth. She shot the snow a glare that should have melted it. The weather was already so bad that she wouldn't be able to venture out for any form of firewood. So she snuggled closer to her horse, ignoring the stink, finally she felt her shivers subsiding.

Relatively warm and safe she could finally come up with a plan. Her only plan so far had been _Stab him and run. _Which wasn't much of a plan and Lyra liked plans. Plans meant everything was in order. Plans meant people didn't get hurt, or more importantly her clan didn't. Not that, that was important now, they'd been dead too long. Blood spilt for gold.

She felt the anger boiling inside her, when she got her hands on that elf she was going to kill him a thousand times over! She'd stab him once for each member of her clan and wouldn't stop until all his blood was drained from his body! Till he was merely a bloody mass of muscle and bone, and even then she wouldn't be done!

Shaking away the thoughts of murder for now she considered her next course of action, she needed to focus. She'd go to Redcliffe and listen for gossip regarding the Wardens. It was going to be hard though, she was an elf and she knew well enough people weren't fond of chatting with 'knife-ears'. She should also buy some new weapons, not that she had the coin for it, but taking on a rouge Crow with a rusty old dagger was a scenario that ended in her death.

She rested her head against her horse, stealing both warmth and comfort from it. It was no use trying to plan now, she didn't have the information or resources, she'd just have to sleep and head off to Redcliffe. Then she could start making plans.

As she began to drift off she sent a silent prayer to whatever God was listening that she would be spared the nightmares this evening. No more images of fallen brethren, bloody and broken. No more images of her home alight with fire. And most importantly, no more images of an Antivan elf with the guilty eyes and group of assassins.

_***_

_This is just a bit of a prologue really, but I hope you enjoying it anyway!  
_


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